To Victory We Go
by Fan O' Fanfic
Summary: One hundred drabbles on what would happen if the God of Mischief got his hands on a certain list…
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Thor, the Avengers or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ Thor/Avengers

_Title:_ To Victory We Go

_Summary:_ One hundred drabbles on what would happen if the God of Mischief found a certain list…

_Music used for inspiration:_ None.

A/N: I am referring of course, to the Evil Overlords List. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do so. :) Simply Google it and it will be the first hit on the page.

* * *

_My ventilation ducts will be too small to crawl through._

1. The Perfect Plan

"It's a perfect plan!"

Steve looked sceptical.

"Are you certain? Because I really don't think this is going to work. For one, how is she going to know where to go even _if_ she gets inside?" He pressed.

Tony waved a negligent hand.

"Details. It'll work, and it'll be awesome."

Steve raised a dubious eyebrow.

"If you say so."

Tony pressed the button on the panel in front of him, enabling the Black Widow to hear them.

"How're you doing?" he asked eagerly.

The voice of Natasha Romanov, the infamous Black Widow, drifted through the speakers in perfect pitch.

"I've bypassed external security and am about to enter the building via the roof." Came the flat, professional reply.

"Wonderful. All you need to do now is climb through the air duct and voila. Infiltration complete."

He grinned and Steve could almost imagine him rubbing his hands together in childish glee.

Steve turned his attention back to the screen that lit their part of the room. The image was clear and sharp, a product of Starks technological prowess, and they could see from Natasha's point of view while she was moving silently around the compound.

Then, on the screen, the image jiggled as the spy scaled a wall, quickly dodging the barbed wire at the top. Steve wasn't sure how she managed it, let alone made it look so effortless. The Black Widow crept along on of the roofs until she paused, the camera transmitting what she was seeing.

A large ventilation duct, set into the side of a building, was sitting innocuously in from of her.

"I told you so!" Tony crowed.

Steve's eyebrows had receded into his hairline. He hadn't thought such a plan would _work._ What kind of idiot would overlook something like that?

"How did you know?" he asked the other man curiously.

Tony blinked as his eyes followed the movements on the screen.

"Hmm? Oh, you know. It's in every movie ever!"

Steve looked blank.

Tony turned to look at him and suddenly looked like he wanted to facepalm.

"Right. Frozen. Gotcha. Well, every villain has a secret hideout or evil fortress right? Well, whichever one it is, there's _always_ ventilation shafts. _Always_. It's like movie law."

Steve still didn't understand, but nodded anyway to keep from feeling overly stupid.

On the screen, Natasha had succeeded in removing all but one of the thick metal screws that held the grate closed. With the tiniest sheering of metal, the last one popped off and she eased the cover open.

There was a pause.

"I do not believe we planned for this." She said, and Steve could imagine her frowning.

Tony was outraged.

"That's not _fair!_" He ranted, "What kind of villain builds air ducts that small? Not even a midget contortionist could sneak through those!"

Steve was amused, but kept it to himself.

"I think that was the point." He interjected.

Although Steve knew he would never admit it even if shown a video, the other man was pouting.

While Tony was fuming, Steve leaned into the mic.

"Get out of there Natasha, this is clearly not going to work." He said, sighing.

"Understood."

* * *

Somewhere, deep in the bowels of his facility, a certain god lounged on a chair, a remote control dangling from his fingers and a smirk fixed securely on his face. His eyes roved the screen in front of him and the grin stretching his lips only grew with every passing second.

A somewhat tinny voice echoed from the speakers built into the station in front of him.

"-ot fair! What kind of villain builds air ducts that small?"

He chuckled and depressed the button on the remote control, sending alarms blaring throughout the complex and sending the men posted there into a frenzy. The woman probably wouldn't be caught, he mused, but it was felt good to let them know that she had failed.

"A damn good one." He murmured, his eyes alight with humour.

* * *

_And there you have it. The first of what I hope will be many more. :) Read, review, and tell me which rule you would like to see next and I may just accomodate you. ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Thor, the Avengers or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ Thor/Avengers

_Title:_ To Victory We Go

_Summary:_ One hundred drabbles on what would happen if the God of Mischief got his hands on a certain list…

_Music used for inspiration:_ None.

A/N: I am referring of course, to the Evil Overlords List. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do so. :) Simply Google it and it will be the first hit on the page.

* * *

_I will not gloat over my enemies' predicament before killing them._

2. Winning

Quite frankly, things had looked better.

In fact, things couldn't really get much worse.

Tony was not having a good day.

He was rather sure that the rest of the team were having similar feelings.

"Greetings."

Tony scowled. And there it was. The crux of the matter. The one thing that made his day _suck._

"Brother!"

And there was Thor, looking like someone (his psychotic younger brother) had kicked his puppy and trashed his crayons.

The villainous god in question inclined his head, an infuriating grin tugging at his lips.

"Thor." He greeted, mockery lacing his tone.

The rest of the team stayed silent, shooting glares that ranged from hatred to utter and complete loathing.

"Why so bitter?" Loki asked, looking innocent. "After all, it wasn't like you were going to _succeed._"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Can't you just get to it?" he asked, giving the god his best 'kiss my ass' stare.

Loki blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

A smile wormed its way onto the genius face, even though it made his split lip hurt.

"Can we get to the good stuff? You talk about how great you are and how we can't possibly hope to defeat you, we break out and, well, _defeat_ you. There will mostly likely be plenty of explosions and some maniacal laughter on your part, but can't we just skip all that?" he continued on, "In fact, why not just surrender, we can be home in time for dinner!"

Loki studied him for a few seconds before snapping his fingers. Several uniform clad figures entered the room.

"Wait, you expected me to _monologue?"_ he asked, half incredulous.

Stark was somewhat taken aback.

"Um, yes?"

The dark haired god threw back his head and laughed. It wasn't maniacal, but it was close.

"You really think I'm that stupid don't you?" He shook his head. He motioned to the ominous figures and they took their places beside him, all holding weapons at the ready.

Thor broke in, looking horrified.

"Brother, what are you _doing?_"

A sly look slithered onto the younger brothers face.

"I'm afraid we must say goodbye now." He turned to his men. "Kill them. Make sure they're dead."

Tony blanched.

"Wait! Aren't you going to _gloat?_ We're at your mercy and everything!"

Loki cocked his head to one side.

"I'm not stupid. Giving a monologue is almost as bad as asking: 'What could possibly go wrong?'"

Tony felt Steve struggling against his bonds, but even the super soldier couldn't break out of whatever they were made of.

"Brother! Stop this madness!"

Loki shot his brother a look that clearly showed he wondered by Thor bothered.

"How about no?"

* * *

_Here's another, these things are fun... :3 This one was taking a somewhat darker and more depressing turn, but I think I turned it around. :) Remember the three R's! Read, Review, ... uhh, Rawr?_


	3. Chapter 3 Part 1

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Thor, the Avengers or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ Thor/Avengers

_Title:_ To Victory We Go

_Summary:_ One hundred drabbles on what would happen if the God of Mischief got his hands on a certain list…

_Music used for inspiration:_ None.

A/N: I am referring of course, to the Evil Overlords List. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do so. :) Simply Google it and it will be the first hit on the page.

* * *

_I will treat any beast which I control through magic or technology with respect and kindness. Thus if the control is ever broken, it will not immediately come after me for revenge._

_._

3. Pets (Part 1)

Loki hummed as he walked down the long corridor in the basement. He swung a large covered bucket from one hand and there was a slight bounce in his step. He passed several guards chatting in a corner and they made various signs of respects to the passing god.

One of them looked puzzled.

"Boss man sure is looking happy." He mused, after the god had continued on out of earshot.

One of his friends shuddered.

"Yeah, it gives me the willies."

An older woman with grizzled, flyaway hair snorted.

"You're new here aren't you?" she asked, eyeing them.

"Just signed up last week."

"I only got here on Tuesday."

She snorted again.

"Well, that explains it. I'm assuming you've been at orientation since then?" Not waiting for a response, she continued. "Well, it's Friday. The boss goes to feed his pet on Mondays and Fridays every week."

The first guard looked sceptical.

"I don't really see the big guy as a 'pet' person…"

The older guard grinned darkly, showing her teeth.

"I don't believe you've ever met Nidhogg have you?"

The two newbies looks somewhat perturbed.

"Umm, no?"

"Pity." She sighed. "Boss man loves him."

The second man raised his eyebrows.

"So what is he? Cat, dog? Or is it something weird like…. A tarantula?" he guessed, then shuddered. "I hate those things." He added.

His companion smacked him on the arm.

"Burt you _idiot._ Would boss man really keep a _tarantula_ down here in the basement?" he asked.

"He would if was a _really_ big one."

Suddenly, a noise drifted from the room at the end of the corridor. They all stopped to listen.

"Who's a good boy then? Yes you are!" Loki's voice came from behind the reinforced, lead lined, barred door that took three passcodes, voice recognition and a fingerprint scan to open.

'Burt' shivered.

"That is _creepy._"

They stopped to listen again.

"Are you hungry? I bet you are…" the voice trailed off and there was silence for a few seconds before the sound of ripping meat and crunching bones was heard. The sounds were wet and were interspersed with odd growling hisses and slurps.

One of the men looked like he was about to throw up. His companion nudged him.

"Hey Dave, you alright?"

'Dave' nodded weakly.

The woman they were with was laughing at them.

The sounds of messy eating continued for a few more minutes, and when the assembled guards were just beginning to wonder just how much the thing could eat, there were a few moments of silence.

There was a colossal belch that shook the walls and caused dust to trickle down from the ceiling and then the sounds of a very contented _something_.

"You _were_ hungry weren't you? Good boy." Loki's rather doting voice drifted towards them again. "What a good monster you are…"

Loud purring emanated from the corridor and a steady double thump that sounded like two gigantic dogs tails beating against the floor.

Burt and Dave looked like they were wondering what they'd signed up to.

"That's nice isn't it? Now, be a good boy until I some back."

There was a loud whining.

"None of that. I'll be back on Monday alright, my adorable little monster?"

Resigned hisses.

There was a pause, and then a shriek of metal as the door opened, and their boss stepped out. As he strode towards them, still swinging the bucket, they saw that while there was nothing different about him, his hair was slightly ruffled as though by wind. There was a grin on his face.

He nodded to them as he passed and they nodded weakly back.

As he left, Burt blinked and looked disconcerted.

"Um, was that a _human hand_ hanging out of that bucket?"

The woman laughed.

Dave looked like he was going to be sick again.

* * *

_And that makes three. Part 1 of the third to be precise. Part two will surface at some point, not sure when, but it will. Then the Avengers get to mee the adorable little Nidhogg! Nidhogg, in Norse mythology is the 'tearer of corpses', and was the most powerful of the terrifying serpents that gnawed perpetually at the deepest root of the world tree Yggdrasil, hoping to destroy it. He often described as a fearsome creature hundreds of feet long, and had a scaly hide so tough no blade could pierce it...though his most peculiar attribute is that he apparantly enjoyed arguing with anyone who would listen._

So yeah. Loki named his pet after him. I always thought that Loki would be the kind of guy to actually seek Nidhogg out just to argue with him, and that eventually, they might become freinds. :)


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Thor, the Avengers or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ Thor/Avengers

_Title:_ To Victory We Go

_Summary:_ One hundred drabbles on what would happen if the God of Mischief got his hands on a certain list…

_Music used for inspiration:_ None.

A/N: I am referring of course, to the Evil Overlords List. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do so. :) Simply Google it and it will be the first hit on the page.

* * *

_I will not include a self-destruct mechanism unless absolutely necessary. If it is necessary, it will not be a large red button labelled "Danger: Do Not Push". The big red button marked "Do Not Push" will instead trigger a spray of bullets on anyone stupid enough to disregard it. Similarly, the ON/OFF switch will not clearly be labelled as such. _

_._

4. DO NOT PUSH

"Thor!"

The surprised cry rang out across the background noise of bullets, energy blasts and bad one-liners.

The thunder god grunted as a bullet hit him in the back, winding him. He spun around and floored the perpetrator with his hammer before calling it back into his outstretched hand.

"I'm fine!" he called out, not entirely sure as to whom he should be addressing.

Captain America steadily retreated as he ducked behind his shield, bullets ricocheting off it.

"We need to get to get out of here!" he shouted, as he took cover again.

Iron Man charged up his gauntlets and let loose a blast that blew out part of a wall, crushing several troops under falling debris.

"Gotcha." There was a moment's pause before he spoke again. "JARVIS says that there is a control room ahead and to the left. And unless you have some military grade explosives hidden in that suit of yours we gotta hope there's be a self-destruct for the base-" he stopped talking as he was rugby tackled by a very foolish and soon to be very dead soldier that met his demise after being thrown through a concrete wall after Tony had prised him off.

Iron Man grunted with annoyance before taking careful aim and using a well placed explosive rocket to bring what remained of the corridor collapsing in on itself. He blew out a breath.

"Close one."

Captain America propped himself against a wall to catch his breath, while Thor placed his hammer back on his belt.

"That will not hold them for long." He warned, correctly guessing that a liberal application of explosives would clear the way.

Steve nodded.

"We need to find that switch." He said firmly.

Agreeing, the three men took off at a run, following the directions being relayed via Tony's suit.

Reaching an unobtrusive door, they wrenched it open, weapons at the ready. Steve slammed a technician into a table, knocking him out, while Thor wasted the two guards posted in the room before they had the chance to activate the alarm. Tony was moving to the control panel, even before the bodies had slumped to the ground.

Taking a quick look at the buttons, he called his teammates over.

Thor raised an eyebrow and pointed to a large red button marked: 'DANGER: DO NOT PUSH' in big yellow letters.

Tony grinned. "You want to do the honours?" He offered with uncharacteristic grace.

As Thor reached for the button, Steve interjected.

"Are you _sure_ that's a good idea? We don't know how much time it'll give us to get out-"

Thor clapped him on the back.

"Don't worry. What could possibly go wrong?"

Steve looked horrified.

Before he could stop him, and in almost comical slowness Thor reached out and pressed the button.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, shrill alarms began to blare and there was a whirring noise, followed by some metallic clanks and the sound of running feet. Four large, wall mounted turrets perked up in their previously unnoticed cradles and spun to fix on the three men. The door burst open and an entire platoon of troops entered, armed to the teeth and not looking particularly friendly.

Steve facepalmed.

Thor looked nonplussed.

Tony blinked.

"Well _shit."_

* * *

_This actually was going to be a different one, but I saw this rule and felt I just had to do it! :3  
Remember: Read, Review, Rawr!  
... Or i'll feed you to Nidhogg. -_-_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Thor, the Avengers or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ Thor/Avengers

_Title:_ To Victory We Go

_Summary:_ One hundred drabbles on what would happen if the God of Mischief got his hands on a certain list…

_Music used for inspiration:_ None.

A/N: I am referring of course, to the Evil Overlords List. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do so. :) Simply Google it and it will be the first hit on the page.

* * *

_No matter how well it would perform, I will never construct any sort of machinery which is completely indestructible except for one small and virtually inaccessible vulnerable spot._

5. No. Just no.

Loki was feeling good.

The sun was shining, Nidhogg was purring, and he'd just executed three people. Today was a good day.

Glancing at a clock mounted on the wall of the hallway he was walking in, he was reminded that he had a meeting with his chief engineer in a couple of minutes. Quickening his step, he turned in the direction of the meeting room.

* * *

When he arrived, his staff (minions) were already congregated around the large table, looking over some blueprints.

When they noticed him enter, they immediately straightened and made varying signs of respect to the god, before he sat down. He waved an indolent hand, and they seated themselves.

He looked at his chief engineer who was a thin man with receding dusty red hair and large, protuberant brown eyes.

"Engineer Adams." He greeted, "What have you got for me?"

Engineer Adams swallowed before replying, barely able to contain his excitement.

"I have something that I think you'll like sir."

Loki quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Adams couldn't contain his smile.

"Three words: _Orbital bombardment platform._"

Loki cocked his head, the beginnings of a grin creeping onto his face.

"We're thinking of calling it the_Andlát_ _Stjarna._" He paused when he saw his superiors gaze become amused. He grinned sheepishly. "We thought that might amuse you sir."

Loki's lips twitched, and he jerked his head in askance for his subordinate (minion) to carry on.

"The whole thing will be build out of the strongest materials we have access to, and I'm assuming that what we _don't_ have access to can be… acquired." He smiled nastily at this point, showing what side he was on. "It has two settings, 'regular shot' and 'total annihilation'."

Loki grinned darkly as his engineer explained the details of his soon to be shiny new weapon. This day just kept getting better and better.

* * *

"Here, take a look for yourself."

Engineer Adams slid the blueprints across the polished table for his boss to look at.

Loki spent a few minutes idly standing at the table, looking over the plans and occasionally firing questions off that the engineer tried to answer.

Then, he frowned.

"Adams." He barked, and his employee (minion) jumped from where he had been trying to pour himself a cup of coffee. "What is this?"

"Sir?"

"It looks to me Adams, like a _hole_."

Adams fidgeted.

"Ahh," he said, wringing his hands, "That's a small issue, not worth mentioning really…"

Loki looked at him.

"It won't affect overall performance and it's only a waste exhaust. Plus, we're in space! It's all good, right?" he continued, looking hopeful.

Loki wasn't buying it.

"What will happen if someone gets a shot in?" he asked, pinning the other man with a look.

"The odds of that are a thousand to one! And every other inch of the thing is armoured like a tank. It's nothing to worry about, re-" his boss cut him off.

"Adams!" he snapped. "What will happen if somespandex cladmoron_ gets a shot in?" _

The engineer, but his lip and felt the distinct need to change his trousers.

"There may be a _small_ possibility of it um… exploding slightly sir."

Loki counted to ten in his head.

"And this didn't strike you as _problematic_?"

"Well, not as such." He answered diplomatically, "As you can see, the benefits _far_ outweigh the risks and it would be a wonderful asset if I could just build it…" he wheedled.

"No."

Adams looked like someone had just told him he wasn't allowed to get an ice cream at the beach.

"But-"

"No."

"But _sir,_ surely-"

"_No._"

"But _why?_"

Loki glared.

"Because _Chief Engineer Adams_, that thing _will_ explode when some idiot with too many bullets and too little sense tries to shoot it. And what do you think will happen then?" he trailed off dangerously, his eyes glittering.

Adams bit his lips and subconsciously tried to make himself look very small. "You'll umm, be annoyed?"

"Annoyed Adams? _Annoyed?_" Loki repeated incredulously. "Annoyed is what I get if I don't meet my kill quota for the week or if Nidhogg shits in my basement. So no, I don't think _annoyed_ quite covers it. I'd be _livid._" He smiled cruelly. "So if it _did_ explode due to a 'design oversight', what do you think I'd do- being more than mildly angry?"

"I- I don't know?" the other man stuttered.

"I'll send your bloody, gift wrapped corpse to the Avengers with a note saying: 'We'll build it better next time.'" The gods grin widened by a few teeth. "But that won't happen now will it? Because you're going to fix this before you bring it to me again, aren't you?"

Adams was pasty white and breathing shallowly.

"Y-yes sir." He managed to choke out.

Loki smiled genially, although no one could miss the malicious glint in his eye. He reached out and, ignoring the humans flinch, patted his engineer on the cheek.

"Good boy."

* * *

Andlát Stjarna_ means Death Star in Old Norse. ... I lol'ed. This one was supposed to be funnier, but I had an odd craving for dark, villainous Loki, so this is what happened. :3_

_Read, Review, rawr._

_Remember, Nidhogg is_ always_ hungry! :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Thor, the Avengers or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ Thor/Avengers

_Title:_ To Victory We Go

_Summary:_ One hundred drabbles on what would happen if the God of Mischief got his hands on a certain list…

_Music used for inspiration:_ None.

A/N: I am referring of course, to the Evil Overlords List. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do so. :) Simply Google it and it will be the first hit on the page.

* * *

_I will hire a talented fashion designer to create original uniforms for my Legions of Terror, as opposed to some cheap knock-offs that make them look like Nazi stormtroopers, Roman footsoldiers, or savage Mongol hordes. All were eventually defeated and I want my troops to have a more positive mind-set._

6. Runway

Loki was feeling quite relaxed. He lounged on his sofa, a glass of wine in one hand, and a magazine rested on his knee, his other hand idly turning the pages.

He sat like that for some time, eventually draining his glass and setting it down, turning his full attention to the pages in front of him.

As he rhythmically turned pages, the beginnings of an idea gradually filtered into his relaxed brain.

A slow grin spread across his face as the well oiled wheels of his mind began hatching out a plan.

* * *

Gerard Montiere was –if you asked him personally- one of the very best. He had labels around the world and rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous (who were, incidentally, usually wearing his clothes). Half American and half French, he had capitalised on his heritage, and painted the picture of himself as the talented, quintessential French designer. His career however, had sometimes been less than glittering. It was a long, hard road to become what he was now, and the industry was cruel. So, as a not-quite-up-and-coming intern at a premier fashion label, he'd needed a little extra cash. So, he did what any smart man would do, he'd found a way to use his talents to get himself a bit of extra money.

Designing for various villains had not been a particularly easy task, but it had been somewhat of a comfortable one. None of his 'clients' had been big time players, and while he entertained dreams of bigger and better things, he never got any further with his little side job.

Eventually however, his was recognised and worked his way up until he had no need for his 'other pursuits' to bring in the cash, and promptly dropped his side occupation.

It was in the last few years however, that he's begun to miss it. He was _bored_. He loved his job, but he was getting sick of tailoring his fabulous creations to the whims of the financiers and catering to the fancies of stupid little stick figures with poofy lips. But he did nothing. It was just a fancy, it would pass.

Now however, he was feeling that fate might have granted him a boon in making the choice for him.

* * *

Gerard wrenched his arm away from a guard (minion) who was guiding him to a seat. The office they were in was sparse and utilitarian, much to his disgust, but an effort had been made to provide moderate comfort. He had no idea who wanted to talk to him, although he was sure it was no one good, seeing as how menacing the guards were looking.

Straightening his lapels, he turned his nose up and walked by himself. He sat himself primly on the chair in front of the desk, and waited. The two large guards took their positions at the door.

It only took a few minutes for Gerard to finally see who he was to meet. He had been entertaining thoughts on who it might be, and had compiled a list in his head.

The man who entered the office and sat behind the desk was _not_ on that list.

Oh. Well then.

He swallowed but his mouth had gone dry. He called upon unknown reserved of courage, and raised his eyes.

Tall, sharp facial features that many would kill for, slender and –Gerard couldn't help himself- wonderfully dressed.

"Greetings Mr. Montiere. I hope my men were not too rough with you." A greeting on a voice like poisoned honey.

Quirking a small and rather strained smile, Gerard attempted to answer.

"Not at all."

The hint of a grin that showed a brief flash of white teeth.

"Wonderful. Now Mr. Montiere, I'm sure you already have an idea as to what my reason for bringing you here is." Green eyes studied him carefully.

Gerard swallowed again.

"Yes." He didn't think he trusted his voice to say more.

"Good. Now, I have no need of your services personally I'm afraid, however I do wish to… 'make use' shall we say? Of your talents." The trickster god steepled his fingers.

Gerard nodded. He should have seen this coming. He should have realised that shady dealings of his youth was going to bite him in the ass like a rabid dog.

"What do you want?" he winced at how rude he sounded. Normally, rudeness was the last thing on his mind when speaking to people, but normal people couldn't kill him with their bare hands now could they?

The grin widened.

"Many things Mr. Montiere. However, only one of which I shall acquire from you I think. I need you to design me some uniforms for my men. I would do it myself, but it is not my area of expertise."

'_You're right.'_ Gerard thought feverishly, _'Your area of expertise is murder and chaos.'_ He winced, he hoped the god hadn't heard that somehow.

He nodded, his fear slowly ebbing away the more they talked.

"What do you need?" he asked, his mind already whirling through designs and fabrics.

"I'll leave that up to you. Just don't make it _too_ flashy will you?"

Loki stood, Gerard hurriedly followed suit.

"It's been a pleasure Mr. Montiere, I'll have you taken to your room now."

Gerard blinked in surprise and the god caught it.

"You didn't think I was just going to let you walk out of here did you? Oh no, Mr. Monitere, what won't do. I assure you, you will have everything you need."

Gerard bit his lip.

"And when I'm done, I'll be free to go?" he asked, tensing.

Loki gave him an amused look.

"Of course. You'll leave here unharmed with your pockets a little heavier and me a little happier. And if you do a good job, then well, I may just have to call upon you again."

Gerard made his affirmation and watched as the Norse god nodded to him, before sweeping out of the room as fast as he had come.

* * *

When he was settled in the room provided, Gerard though over his most recent experience with the darker side of the world.

Sure, he'd worked with villains on occasion, but working –and meeting!- a _super_villain was another thing entirely. For one, Dr. Despicable, Octopus Man and The Meanie did _not_ have that sort of presence. Supervillains were in a whole different league and far more classy that the regular scum that called themselves villains. To be honest, he was feeling somewhat out of his depth.

But another part of his was relishing a challenge. To do work for the number one threat to the _world_…

Well, he certainly wasn't bored any more.

* * *

"I have several designs for you to look over."

Gerard wasn't sure if he should be calling the god 'sir' or not. It reminded him of when he was still an intern. He didn't like the feeling.

Loki cast a lazy eye over the sheaf of papers in the designers hand.

"Good. Lay them out would you?"

Gerard did so, his heart in his mouth. He _really_ didn't want to get this wrong. He had never missed his beachfront penthouse so much right now.

Loki spent a few minutes looking over various designs. Some he discarded immediately and some he out to one side. Eventually, Gerard saw a smile spread across his face as he picked up a single sheet.

"This is perfect, give me secretary the details when you leave."

Gerard felt the tenseness leave his body, replaced by slight curiosity.

"Why did you choose that one? It's not very… traditional." He inquired carefully.

The god raised an eyebrow.

The designer hurried to explain himself.

"What I mean is, why not the roman inspired one, or the one that captivated the essence of a savage mongol horde? Or even the paramilitary, Nazi-esque one?"

Loki gave him a look.

"They were all _defeated_, if you remember. I would rather like my troops to have a more… positive mind-set about their uniforms. Would _you_ like to go into battle looking like something that got their asses kicked by some primitives with sticks?"

Gerard blinked.

Huh. That oddly made sense. He wondered why other villains hadn't thought of that.

When he was finally home and (relatively) safe, the first thing he did was to find out if anyone had even realised he was missing. His personal assistant had welcomed him back and asked how his holiday in Bermuda was. He shivered, _supervillains_.

His next collection though, made some ripples in the community when he brought it out. Defeated though they may have been, savage mongol hordes, roman footsoldiers and Nazi-esque stormtroopers were _classics._

* * *

_This one was supposed to be short, but it seems as though it has turned out far longer than I had anticipated! Sorry for the wait, but I hit a bit of a writing block with this one, not being sure which number to do next. _

_Anyway: read, review, rawr. _

_Nidhogg says 'Blargwhargbl'._


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Thor, the Avengers or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ Thor/Avengers

_Title:_ To Victory We Go

_Summary:_ One hundred drabbles on what would happen if the God of Mischief got his hands on a certain list…

_Music used for inspiration:_ None.

A/N: I am referring of course, to the Evil Overlords List. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do so. :) Simply Google it and it will be the first hit on the page.

* * *

_My door mechanisms will be designed so that blasting the control panel on the outside seals the door and blasting the control panel on the inside opens the door, not vice versa._

7. Jailbreak

Clint was cursing his life. He was not a paragon of peace and humility, he knew that. But did he really deserve this?

Steve, who had somehow gotten himself captured (Clint suspected it had something to do with being smacked over the back of the head with a divinely wielded two by four), would have commiserated with him. Tony and Thor however, did not.

Tony was grumbling and snapping sarcastically at him, while Thor was having the time of his life bashing soldiers into jam.

They had made their way through the complex relatively undetected (which, considering who he was with, was a minor miracle), until they had walked into a room and were met with several squads of soldiers holding cups of coffee and donuts, apparently on their break.

So now they were –once again- fighting their way through Loki's complex. Fabulous.

Wrenching a door open and hurrying down it, he paused only to shoot off several arrows which, by the pained cries and gurgles, hit their mark.

A row of simple, secure cells lay before them, all with heavily reinforced doors and electronic locks. Making short work of the guards who had barely raised their weapons before leaving the mortal plane, he began to search each cell for their missing compatriot.

Tony and Thor were holding the veritable tide of guards (minions) back.

Peeking into the letterbox like slot in one of the doors, Clint spied the dejected form of their friend looking around at the sound of the commotion.

When Steve saw the tiny sliver of his friends face, his own lit up.

He hurried to the door.

"Clint, am I glad to see you!" He greeted breathlessly, a smile working its way onto his face.

"Backatcha buddy." He replied. "Let me do something about this lock…"

Leaning down to get a better look, he began to fiddle with the lock on the cell door.

"Tony would be better at this…" he grumbled, but persevered.

"What's the hold up?" The man himself bellowed over the sound of weapon discharge and Thor's booming laughter as he flattened any guard foolish enough to challenge him.

Clint ground his teeth.

"I'm _working_ on it!" he hollered back.

"Well work faster!" Tony snarked, ducking under a spray of bullets and discharging his gauntlets at his foes.

Clint continued to fiddle with the lock as Steve fretted inside the cell.

"Are you done yet?" he asked after a moment.

Clint covered his head as shrapnel exploded out of a wall and showered him with debris.

"No."

…

"What about now?"

"_No."_

…

"What about _now-"_

"I'd be done a damn sight faster if you didn't keep interrupting me!" he snapped, and the Captain winced.

Thankfully, he kept silent as Clint pulled out wires and poked buttons.

Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted up into the air by the back of his shirt and plonked back on the ground a few feet away. As he was about to retaliate, he felt a heavy hand clap him on the shoulder.

"Let me try." Thor offered with resolve.

Clint (and Steve's) eyes widened with panic.

"I don't think that's a good-"

But Thor wasn't listening.

He raised his hammer and, glaring at the lock as though it had personally wronged him, brought it down.

"Nothing shall stand before mighty Mjolnir!" he roared.

Clint facepalmed.

Steve wisely jumped back.

Thor hit the panel with such force, it created a small crater in the wall. The panel fizzled, sputtered and, looking rather pathetic, dropped off the wall.

Thor looked smug.

"Nothing can stand up to the strength of As-"

Thick metal plates slammed down over the surface of the door. Reinforced bars slid down over those, and then a shimmering, transparent force field bathed the door in sickly orange. The smell of ozone and magic scorched their nostrils.

"-gard. Oh."

Clint glared at the dumbfounded god.

"Nicely done there _mighty thunder god_." He hissed.

Thor spluttered.

"But, but, but-"

"What the _hell_ happened just now?" came the cry from Ironman who, Clint realised belatedly, was holding off an army by himself.

"Thor borked the lock up." He yelled back, shooting the god a dirty look. "We may have to think of another plan."

Clint winced as Tony began to curse.

"Umm, guys?" came the muffled voice of Captain America. "Are you going to get me out now?"

Clint sighed.

This just wasn't his day.

* * *

_Two updates in one week. You lucky sods. _

_Nidhogg was out on walkies this evening, so I couldn't get a quote from him. I have a suspicion it would be something like: 'blarg.' though._

_Read, review, rawr._


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